The White Rainbow
by speccyboy
Summary: An Irish assassin with amnesia, her sister, and a hologram of her deceased Italian friend reflect on their past while looking to the future. Mainly OC-centric, this may evolve into a full story. Read and review, please. :)
1. Chapter 1

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my OC**

**_Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 24 September 2012_**

I sat in my expensive-looking suite as I watched the Moon shine in the Sky, finding it difficult to drift off to catch some zeds. _What do you need sleep for, Sandro Peseta? You're a hologram – you're dead._ I thought to myself irritably. _It's supposed to be your birthday in two days._ My mind added. _Do the dead celebrate their birthdays? It would have been my 48th if I were still alive._ I chuckled at the ironic thought of thinking like a living person when I had died a long time ago. Looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a gold-coloured Ace of Spades on my forehead, signifying my hologram status, a hard-light projection, an electronic ghost confined to a state of digital consciousness in a virtual afterlife. Sniffling silent tears, I sat before two keyboards – one black, one silver – my synthesisers from my band days… and my final show with my friends and bandmates, our last gig as a group together. I switched them on and began to improvise, eventually going into a full piano melody with one hand and a chorus effect with the other. As I played the instrumental composition with unerring accuracy, I felt memories begin to creep into my mind – my birth way back in 1964, my conservative upbringing, my discovery that I was autistic, but no single memory stood out as much as the others as THAT one… _25 October 1989 – the day I died. I was 25 years old._ Eventually, I reached the conclusion of my instrumental _sonata_ and switched off the keyboards. A loud knock was heard over the door. "Come inside." I said softly. The door swung open, revealing a tall, athletic-looking woman with golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. I felt my holographic lips curl into a smile as the woman – the Irish assassin-cum-bodyguard, Nina Williams – entered, clothed in a tight-fitting black Lycra catsuit with long sleeves and a turtleneck with zip-back. _Doesn't she wear ANYTHING other than that sci-fi stuff?_ I thought, but chose to say nothing of it.

"Still can't sleep, Sandro?" She asked in a slightly flat tone of voice. I nodded wordlessly before replying in Italian. "You were thinking about that day again, weren't you?" Locking my eyes with hers, I nodded assertively.

"I died… trying to rescue you, Nina. You were – and will always be – my friend." I wiped away a tear or two from my face as I sighed, my voice clearly breaking and shaking from the memory of what I thought I had overcome. Looking at the older Williams sister before me, her face softened slightly as she pulled me into a soft hug for a moment before letting go.

"You could have just walked away and had a happy life, Sandro… you could have done so much more, and you had to throw it all away for a cold-hearted killer like me." She said, her voice combining sadness and disappointment. I sighed and nodded.

"The heart often rules the mind." I justified weakly, but honestly. She sighed in disbelief as she turned to leave, but I stopped her for a moment, just to see her before she went to sleep. "On second thought, it doesn't matter – what difference will it make? You've lost the best part of your memory, and I've lost my life." Nina looked shocked at my declaration before straightening her face and leaving, closing the door behind her as she left. _Shit, shit, shit! You stupid bastard, Sandro!_ I cursed mentally as I buried my face in my hands. I could hear Nina crying quietly to herself as her footsteps receded into eventual silence. Without another word, I reached into my stomach and switched off my hologram projection, ready to reactivate itself the next day. The fire within me soared like a massive nuclear explosion as I felt a brief but sharp sensation of pain – and then there was nothing.

**Author's Note: Read and review, please - sorry about the short first chapter, but there is more to come. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 2**

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Arena, Tokyo, Japan – 23 October 1989**_

I found myself on the stage – podium – of a very familiar-looking indoor arena, about the size of the _Hallenstadion_ in Zurich, Switzerland. Standing before me were my beloved synthesisers, and looking to either side of me, I was able to see two other individuals – a fair-haired drummer with a goatee beard and a rather energetic guitarist-vocalist with dark hair. _You're back in the past… Hans and Yakov – your old friends and bandmates._ I thought to myself as the reality eventually settled in. I had no idea at the time that this particular gig would be the end of our live career, and it was largely my fault. As our signature show-stopping medley came to a close, we were met with raucous cheering (and some drunken whooping, mainly thanks to two individuals named Paul Phoenix and Marshall Law, who took the liberty of getting to the venue early after their disqualifications) as the three of us left the stage… for the last time. _Knebworth Park, eat your heart out._ I thought to myself, high as a kite at the time. After a VERY special encore, the show ended and we were on our way to an after party – well, two of us were. Can you guess who the odd one out was? That is right. It was I! I spent about 10 minutes there before leaving, unable to take the social partying a second longer as I headed for the Zaibatsu bar, downing wine and vodka as I sighed, muttering to myself in Italian. I was snapped out of my semi-incoherent musings by a familiar sultry voice, strong and feminine at the same time, almost hypnotic in quality. "Not celebrating with your famous friends, Sandro?" I knew that voice. As I swilled down my last bottle of vodka, I turned around to face the Purple Shamrock herself, clad in the same old black Lycra catsuit she wore on most of her missions. "I thought you rockers always hung out with your own kind."

"I'm not an ordinary rocker, Nina. I'm just a bloody heretic." I laughed at the self-referential irony. "Why the cheap sci-fi get-up?" I asked in a lighter tone of voice.

"I'm going on a mission – to take out my target… Kazuya Mishima." My eyes widened slightly.

"You mean… my promoter? The guy who got me the gig here…?" I asked as I shook my head in disbelief. "Talk about being an ungrateful bastard." I replied before calling her out in Italian. However, this did not prepare me for the worst turn of events – a turn that would ultimately seal my fate.

"You're coming with me, Sandro Peseta." I turned to face her with a look of utter shock and horror.

"WHAT!?" I asked as my voice rose by several octaves – my usual bass-baritone C going into a borderline _alto falsetto _G.

"You are coming with me. You said you would do anything for me, since we're friends." She replied semi-sarcastically.

"But to kill somebody…!? You're insane. The guy knows my weak spot! All he has to do is play the guitar solo from _Brighton Rock_ and I'll be playing along like the Man with the Curly Hair!" I replied in a squeaky tone. Before the Purple Shamrock could reply, I heard whooping noises followed by their owners – a pissed-looking Paul Phoenix and an even-more-pissed-looking Marshall Law, the two of them returning from the American equivalent to lager frenzy.

"Good show!" Paul called out to me as Law let out a high-pitched laugh before the inseparable pair waltzed off into the shadows. Nina coughed, and I turned to face her once more.

"Well?" She asked. I looked at what I was wearing – a rare 1st Edition _Red Dwarf_ T-shirt on top of a black turtleneck sweater and some grey trousers with sneakers. My eyes met hers, and despite my better judgement, I simply nodded wordlessly. "Good boy." She said before leaving. I sat at the bar for a moment, trying to think what the hell I had just committed myself to, removing my spectacles.

_You stupid… fucking… bastard, Sandro. You should have just said no, but looks like your friend Yakov was right: You'll do anything to please the birds, won't you?_ My mind admonished me, doing almost nothing for my virtually non-existent self-esteem. Without another word, I got up and left, swearing in French.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu, Tokyo, Japan – 23 October 1989**_

I found myself outside the grand edifice of the Mishima Zaibatsu on a bloody suicide mission. Why I agreed to do this, I will never, ever know, other than I had befriended a beautiful but deadly killer. Now wearing a black _Blake's 7_ T-shirt, which elegantly showcased the show's logo in full colour, I awaited the arrival of the Purple Shamrock as I, the White Rainbow, sighed in mild annoyance. _It's like going out on a date in Nazi Germany._ I thought to myself in another mental rant. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around – there she was, in a similar Lycra catsuit to before, but in purple with a nice yellow belt around the waist. "Come on. Let's go." With those words, I followed her silently, thinking of the after-show party I was missing because of this extreme form of sibling rivalry. Nina and I silently entered the facility and stealthily made our way through the ventilation shafts, eventually entering the building itself via a basement of sorts. Not even bothering to speak, I looked at her with a single raised eyebrow, as if asking her what the next course of action was. She indicated by moving her head towards a door, opening it quickly and quietly as she took out a guard with relative ease. Eventually reaching the CEO's office – in this case, the angular spiked demon Kazuya Mishima – Nina drew her sniper rifle – the H&amp;K PSG1 – and aimed down the sights. She never moved a single muscle or nerve during her whole time on the rifle… but just as the deadly finger closed around the trigger, there was a silenced blow to the back of her head. She grunted wordlessly and fell to the floor, out cold. Having witnessed this, I could do nothing but sit back in confusion and mild panic, my monochromatic clothing helping me blend in with the scenery. Thinking quickly, I turned away and walked quickly and quietly, eventually breaking into a run, my presence remaining unnoticed by the guards surrounding the unconscious blonde assassin. _This isn't going to end well._ I thought as the mood shifted from light and humorous to dark and serious, almost frighteningly serious. Little did I know at the time that those thoughts would be 100% accurate and correct – so accurate and correct, that not even the best fortune-teller would have been able to predict my next action. Why? I'm unpredictable.

**Author's Note: This will be a multi-perspective story, with the OC being in 1st-Person and the other characters in 3rd-Person. Read and review, please. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 3 **

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

It was not until sometime the following morning that Nina awoke… in a darkened cell of sorts. Scrambling to sit up in a rare moment of panic, the Irish blonde looked around her, observing her whereabouts. _Ow, my head…_ She thought to herself, putting her hand on the back of her head, feeling a light mark where her mystery assailant had struck her. _I don't see Sandro anywhere – looks like they don't know about him. He'd be wise to keep it that way._ She surmised further. _Damn my eyes, why can't I see properly?_ The Purple Shamrock asked herself as she rubbed her eyes back into focus – a metallic clanging noise was heard followed by the cell door opening, revealing a silhouetted figure of sorts. Without another word, the figure picked up the beautiful but deadly hitwoman, slinging her over its shoulder as if she were a doll. Despite her best efforts and protests, Nina could not free herself of her captor's grasp. _This guy's like a tank!_ She thought as worry began to seep into her subconscious, partly for her own survival more than her friend's safety. Before she could react, she was dropped onto a chair and her hands tied behind her back, the figure flipping a switch. Nina screamed violently as she felt a surge of electricity surge through her body… and it suddenly stopped, giving her a few seconds to catch her breath – and curse in Gaelic. It was at this point that the mysterious figure finally spoke up, its voice a deep, resonant bass reminiscent of a movie trailer announcer. "Who sent you?"

"Your mother. She told me to tell you she's disappointed in you." Nina spat back. She knew acquiescing would not save her, so the best thing was to push her torturer's buttons. This, however, earned her another zap session. She screamed and wailed as the volts raged into her body. Again, the electricity ceased, and the figure asked her again, this time with more emphasis.

"Who. Sent. You?" It asked firmly, punctuating each word, every single syllabic chord, with the coldness of a dying star.

"Your voice coach – he says you still need work." Once again, the volts raged into her body as she screamed in pain.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 24 October 1989**_

Having spent most of the night in my hotel room on my typewriter, writing out the pages of my novel, I had fallen asleep in front of the machine, having finished a chapter of 5 pages in length. I felt the Sun awaken me as I gradually mumbled myself back to full alertness. _Bloody hell, my head._ I thought to myself… and a horrible flashback took place in my mind. _Oh. My. God._ I realised what was about to happen. _Post-concert after party… Check. Mourning at the bar… Check. Go on crazy suicide mission with Nina Wi… oh, smeg._ A deadly drop of panic pipetted into my mind and quickly spread its venom. I got up and straightened myself out, shaving off my stubble in the process. Opening the door to the suite, I was met by my concerned friends and bandmates – guitarist-vocalist Yakov Skulachev and drummer Hans von Braun. "Hi, guys." I said calmly.

"Where the hell have you been, San? We waited until midnight for you to show up." Yakov countered in a slightly acerbic tone of voice.

"I was out." I replied with uncompromising sincerity. Yakov rolled his eyes slightly.

"What, dressed like that?" He asked, indicating my _Queen_ T-shirt and grey trousers. I looked at my reflection in a mirror, forgetting I was still wearing my off-stage clothes.

"Yes… I was on a date." I lied pathetically. Yakov and I both knew that I was a shit liar.

"You were out with Nina Williams, weren't you, Sandro? You skipped an after party to go on a hit with a psycho bitch from a backstreet pro-IRA drinking pit." Yakov asked in his usual smug-cum-condescending manner.

"Yak, just because we're popular now doesn't mean we have to hang out with the A-Listers all the time." I retorted.

"Sandro, you NEVER hang out with the A-List folks, you're always off chasing a lady." Yakov replied, even more obsequiously than usual.

"That's enough, come on." Hans intervened, always the mediator between the two of us – the Unifier of the Yin-Yang. "Sandro, let's go – it's time to…" He noticed a look of worry on my face. "San?" He asked quizzically. "San, what's up?" Hans questioned further. I looked at him with an expression of determination and mild fear.

"She's in there… God knows what they're doing to her." I muttered half-audibly.

"You don't mean…?" Hans asked.

"Yes. I'm going after her." With those words, I slapped on a pair of tan Army boots and I strode out of the doorway, looking determined. Hans and Yakov looked at each other for a moment before sighing in disbelief.

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

Nina found herself being thrown into the cell once more after the rigorous torture session had finally ended. She picked herself up from the cold hard stone floor and she sighed, weeping silently for a full minute before she could even comprehend what the hell was going on, let alone what was going to happen to her. There was a metallic clicking noise, followed by the cell's door swinging open with a loud clang. A tall figure clad in purple, complete with slicked back black hair, approached her as it entered the cell – Kazuya Mishima. He looked at his would-have-been killer with contempt, undisguised contempt. Nina locked eyes with her would-have-been target. "You… coward." She spat through gritted teeth.

"_I_ am the coward!? It is YOU who have tried to kill ME!" He yelled, his dark eyes glowing and sparkling with fury as he looked at her with glowering heat, so much so that one could swear that his clothes were smoking and smouldering from the intensity.

"Just do as you will… I don't fucking care anymore." Nina wailed. Kazuya looked at his prey for a moment before raising a solitary eyebrow in a Spock-like fashion.

"I have a better idea…" he looked at his guards. "…bring her to me – the subterranean laboratory." He ordered somewhat cryptically. With those words, the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu left, the air thick with tension.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu, Tokyo, Japan – 24 October 1989**_

Arriving at the site of the Mishima building once more, I noticed the Sun was beginning to set. _What!? I only woke up two hours ago!_ I thought to myself as I tried to think back to the night before. _How did Nina and I get into this edifice without being noticed? Got it._ The answer came to me in a flash of light and I approached a guard in a rather casual manner. "Excuse me…?" I asked.

"We're closed – go away, music maker. The boss is not here." The guard replied tersely.

"How rude!" I replied in mock shock. The guard raised his weapon, to which I decked him with a single punch, knocking him out cleanly. Taking his weapon – an FN FNC assault rifle – along with his side arm – a Browning High Power pistol – I shrugged at his unconscious corpse sadly. "Sorry. You'll thank me later, though." With my newly acquired weapons, I loaded the assault rifle and strode into the building, looking and feeling determined. Retracing my steps, I eventually found myself back at the CEO's office, but I was not going to make the same mistake my fair-haired friend made. Thinking quickly for a moment, I jumped into a ventilation shaft, sliding down into the constricted tunnels below. The ducts were just about wide enough for me to crouch and keep my assault rifle raised at the same time. _Beats going prone and crawling like a worm._ I thought as I remained hidden, keeping my presence unknown for the time being. As I descended further into the facility, I felt like I was entering the Depths of Hell itself. Suddenly, a cold wind began biting at my body. Looking out of a grate, I saw the source of the cold: A laboratory housing a column of flat glass capsules – tubes large enough to house a human being. _Is this what I think it is?_ I pondered for a moment before coming to the dreaded conclusion. _He's been playing Frankenstein! Which means… oh, no. No, not her!_ I suppressed a cough as I hid silently, half-hoping what I thought was going to happen would not happen. Panic taking over me for a moment, I exited the ventilation shaft, finding myself in a white corridor as I hid in a nearby storeroom, locking myself in.

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

Nina grunted wordlessly as she was stripped down naked, the guards savouring this moment as they had captured and defeated the famous Irish assassin. She whimpered at their touch as their gloved hands felt her body, her golden blonde hair being taken down and spreading over her face, covering her crystal blue eyes for a moment, the Mishima troops' very presence making her feel dirty and unclean… like her sister, Anna. Frogmarched out of the cell and into a transparent elevator, she was led into the bowels of a subterranean facility, deep underground. The air was cold as she felt the frost bite at her flawless skin. In the heart of the laboratory, she was presented to Kazuya and Anna. Locking eyes with her sister, she glared at her evilly. _I knew you were behind this!_ She thought. After a moment's silence – long, cold, honest – Kazuya spoke up. "Miss Williams… you were caught trying to take my life. I have thought about a suitable punishment for some time, and I have come up with this: You will be placed into Cold Sleep – cryogenic stasis, if you will, for an indefinite period of time. Do not worry – your sister will join you soon." Nina's blood ran cold at the mention of this – she was going to be put into a deep sleep and she had no idea when – or if – she would awaken. She felt tears run down her soft cheeks, crying for the first time since the death of her dear father. "Or, if you prefer, then I can shoot you here and now." Kazuya added semi-sarcastically. Nina gave him a look of resignation. Kazuya nodded wordlessly as the guards dropped her into a human-sized tube – she was too weak to resist. "Sweet dreams." Kazuya quipped as the tube's door closed, sealing her inside. Nina heard a hissing sound followed by a whooshing noise – a thick translucent blue fluid began to fill the capsule, covering her feet as it began to rise towards her knees, her chest and ultimately her neck. The gas put her to sleep as the liquid submerged her completely… the last thing she felt was her body temperature drop as there was a flash of light and the liquid turned to solid ice, freezing her. She lay in the cryogenic tube, sleeping peacefully, protected by the ice and glass encasing her body.


	4. Chapter 4

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 4**

**_Unknown Location – 25 October 1989_**

Having chosen my fate, I slipped out of the storeroom quietly, evading any possible guards' paths. Reaching another ventilation shaft, I peered down into the black abyss before me, pausing for a while to allow my eyes to adjust to the reduced light. I looked around me as I sighed in both disbelief and frustration. _If I end up getting killed trying to rescue a crazy Blake's 7 reject, then I'll never forgive you, Nina._ I thought to myself as I slung my assault rifle over my shoulder, pistol ready in my left hand, my right hand shaking slightly. Without another thought, I slid into the angular shaft, the descent becoming steeper and increasingly vertical as I eventually hit the base of a connecting shaft, my knees impacting with a cold hard steel substructure. Wincing silently, I quickly regained my composure and focused on the mission at hand: To rescue Nina. _Blake would be proud of you, you know, Sandro._ I thought to myself as I mused about my fictional hero, trying to think the way he would think, act the way he would act. Hearing a conversation between two Mishima troops, I paused silently as I tried to remain calm and composed. "How can you expect people to spell your name right if you can't do it yourself, Fresson?" One of the troops asked his friend.

"We got her, Ekman. We're going to be promoted by the Boss and people will remember our names." The second soldier replied.

"Not bloody likely." The first man replied. "By the way… where's Ridzíc? He said he'd meet us for a lunch break."

"Lunch break, my ass – he's on guard duty." Putting 2 and 2 together that Ridzíc must have been the guard I knocked out (and took his weapons), I pursued into the base silently, starting to shiver as I could feel the extreme cold bite at my soft skin and small (for an adult male) hands. Reaching the cryogenic laboratory, I opened the grate and jumped down into the empty area, pistol fused to my hand as I looked around me, eventually spotting two frozen tubes. _Two test subjects?_ I thought… and then it hit me: Anna. _Two for the price of one. This must be your lucky day, Sandro._ I chuckled as I typed on a computer keyboard. _Japanese keyboards… why can't they use QWERTY like the rest of the bloody World?_ I surmised in mild frustration, randomly pushing various keys. Eventually, the monitor showed an image of Nina's sleeping frozen form, my eyebrows furrowing slightly as I pressed on, the screen shifting to show Anna's cryogenically preserved body. Hearing footsteps approach, I began to panic. _Shit!_ Thinking quickly, I hid behind a control panel as the doors to the facility slid open, a deep booming voice speaking quite loudly (for a chap with sensitive ears like me, anything above monotone speaking volume is loud).

"Doctor, are the test subjects coping well so far?" Kazuya's unique voice reverberated throughout the chamber as a second voice – a slightly harsh and raspy one marked by years of age and knowledge – that of Doctor Geppetto Boskonovitch – replied in a slightly jubilant tone.

"Yes, sir. You do understand that the experiments could continue into next century, possibly even later?" He asked with a twinge of worry.

"Yes, Doctor. Don't worry… I'll find a suitable replacement for you when the time comes." Kazuya responded with bravado and confidence. Their footsteps grew louder as I thought quickly, desperately looking for something to delay the inevitable. My eyeballs scanned the control panel, eventually locating a big red button – an emergency shutdown switch – and I put my hand over it, my open palm hovering above the dangerous push-button switch. As Boskonovitch entered my field of vision, I took a deep breath and jumped out of my hiding spot.

"Don't move!" I yelled, my eyes and face a fiery torrent of Magnesium. _You imbecile, Sandro – just like your hero, you never were very bright._ My pistol pointed at Boskonovitch's body, I could see Kazuya stare at me.

"This is how you repay your sponsor?" He asked with a slight hint of sarcasm.

"I'm not here to kill you, Kazuya… I'm here to rescue my friend – and then I'll leave." I replied in no uncertain terms.

"Oh, yes… I anticipated that. What if I refuse?" Kazuya enquired.

"Then Frankenstein here goes to court for murder and crimes against humanity." I half-threatened, half-promised, my free right hand hovering above the emergency shutdown button, while my dominant left hand kept the gun pointed at the Doctor's body.

"Go on, Mr Peseta – push the button. Kill them both." Kazuya taunted. Now faced with a choice – kill the piece of shit before me or kill the woman I have come to know and care about over the past two years – I took a third option.

"I'm a human being." With those words, I pistol-whipped Boskonovitch unconscious as I turned the pistol on Kazuya. At this moment in time, three guards, one of whom without weapons, entered the cryo-lab.

"Hey! That's the guy who took my guns… and knocked me out, too!" One of them replied. BANG! Shooting the poor sod in the kneecap, I literally banged his friends' heads together before making a run for it into the corridors as Kazuya called for his 'Tekken Force' troops. I took cover behind a column and switched over to my assault rifle.

_OK, San… you know this music – let's change the beat._ My mind quipped cockily as I flipped open a nearby electronic jukebox. _Oh, fuck yes – Rock and Roll's Royalty._ I smirked. Crouching to avoid the opening gunshots, I activated the jukebox and the music started, peeking my head out from cover to fire only intermittently, aiming VERY carefully as I did not want to waste any ammunition. Eventually, I realised that it did not matter – they were going to kill me anyway. _Fuck it… let's do this, Blake-style._ I thought as I jumped out from my hiding spot, shoot-dodging a Mishima soldier before quickly scrambling to my feet and retreating.

"Go after him! And turn off that music!" Kazuya ordered as I was pursued down the corridor by my new enemies, somersaulting behind a corner.

_Damn it, San, this isn't your style! You're a musician, a nerd, not an action hero!_ My mind screamed as I mentally derided myself for thinking I could be like the great Roj Blake. As the music ground to a dead stop, I opened fire once more, putting more holes in the bad guys than the spiked booby traps in _Prince of Persia_. I still couldn't get close to Nina and Anna, so I had to retreat even further – this proved to be a fatal mistake.

Reloading my assault rifle quickly, I scored some headshots with relative ease, something my recently cryogenically incarcerated friend never thought of doing. "Give yourself up, Peseta!" Kazuya ordered. "Make it easy on yourself, Sandro – give yourself up and I'll set Nina free." I knew he was bullshitting. I had seen it before. Scanning my environment, I could see a handful of Tekken Force troops sneaking on one side of me. I took some pot-shots, incapacitating rather than killing them.

"I've got nowhere else to go, Kazuya! You'll have to kill me, because I'm not leaving here without Nina!" I spat in a tone of mixed determination and despair. There was a long silence before I heard Kazuya give orders in Japanese. _This doesn't sound good._ I thought as I cursed in Italian. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by Mishima Zaibatsu soldiers – at least 30 of them – pointing their weapons at me. I felt a sense of peace and tranquillity that I had never experienced before in my life. Looking at the distant laboratory, I closed my eyes briefly as I mentally prepared myself for the imminent inevitable. "I'm sorry, Nina." I muttered before opening them and looking ahead, staring into the purple-clad Mishima Zaibatsu CEO before me, protected by his private army. _Let's do this._ I came to a personal executive decision as I slowly raised my weapon, calmly and ambiguously. Steadying it in my hand, I smiled an ironic smile, just like Avon after killing Blake. For what felt like a minute, time felt like it had stopped, frozen momentarily before resuming. BANG! I fired a single shot at an unspecified target. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! I felt a bullet tear into my forearm – still, however, I remained erect. BANG! My second shot grazed Kazuya's shoulder as he cursed in Japanese. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three bullets seared into my body – I felt my stomach explode and my lungs collapse as I keeled over to the floor, dropping my weapons. I could feel my knees buckle as the weight of my body began to collapse. I felt my soul escape my body as I died.

0.68 seconds before I expired, I knew this was it. I didn't think of my family, friends or those close to me. There wasn't time.

What I did think of, however, was a computer – my Atari 1040 ST FM computer, which had been my friend since I started doing live gigs.

Then I died.


	5. Chapter 5

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 5 **

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Tower, Tokyo, Japan – 25 September 2012**_

CRACK! FZZZ! BSSHH! The sound of my holographic projection unit reactivating itself (complete with obligatory radio static before settling) pulled me from my temporary oblivion and back into my virtual afterlife. _I still can't get over it – I've been dead for 23 years and I still think like a living person in so many ways._ I thought to myself. Casting these thoughts aside, I simply got up and looked at my electronic reflection in a nearby mirror. _The bounty hunter look kind of suits you, actually – slight stubble, somewhat messy hair and a scar down one eye… you're going to impress her with this – if she can even remember, that is._ My mind cursed. I sighed and cursed in Italian as I looked at a set of clothes on a chair before me. Examining them closely, they looked like the kind of clothing I would have worn when I was alive. Despite fashion trends changing and evolving, my unique tastes had remained constant and consistent, never catching on but I never gave a shit. _Green oversized T-shirt, tunic-style, red sweater, blue tights, black belt and white boots. Fuck it, why not?_ I surmised as I slipped on my futuristic Robin Hood-like outfit, striking a few heroic poses in front of the mirror. I exited my suite with a feeling of mild trepidation – I looked like somebody out of the Italian Renaissance in a country not known for its flexible mentality. _But, hey… if a 40-year-old hitwoman who's actually still in her 20s became bodyguard to the latest descendant in a family of pathological whiny bitches, then who am I to pass judgement?_ I thought to myself before heading into the main edifice. Entering the atrium of the Mishima Zaibatsu Tower (recognisable by its distinctive Kanji logo – you can't miss it), I looked around, scanning my environment carefully – some of the Tekken Force troops were staring at my odd outfit. I chose to ignore them, as even the slightest hint of eye contact would have earned me a fistful of steel and polymer. That didn't seem to work, though, as I could hear one of the officers in charge issuing orders in Japanese. I knew what he meant to say. He approached me with a slightly overconfident stride.

"Mr Peseta, you are to report directly to Miss Williams and Mr Kazama. Now." He spoke to me in perfect English. I turned to face him with a slightly concerned expression before being led to a dedicated elevator, composed of gold doors with the Mishima Zaibatsu logo on the front in silver. The double doors slid open, revealing a marble floor and ceiling complemented with diamond walls. The officer produced a gold access card, inserting it into a slot before quickly withdrawing it as the doors closed… the bullet elevator sped up to the penthouse suite with a liver-flattening WHOOSH! The officer and his men struggled to retain their composure, their faces warping slightly under the severe G-Force of the vertical transporter. I could hear one of them complaining in Japanese, something about his brains going into his feet.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu CEO Office/Penthouse Suite – 25 September 2012**_

A blonde in an iconic purple catsuit accompanied a stoic-looking man seated in a plush diamond-encrusted chair with a marble table. Nina looked at her wristwatch briefly before shaking her head slightly, her fair hair tied in a straight ponytail. Jin looked outside, staring at the streets of the City of Tokyo below as a pinging noise got his attention. Turning around to face the source of the noise, he saw an Italian hard-light hologram – me – enter his office. My projection flickered briefly before becoming solid once again as I half-strode, half-swaggered into the penthouse suite, completely unaffected by the rocket lift as some of the Tekken Force soldiers were groaning audibly from the extreme velocity, like something out of the world's worst roller coaster with nobody to project your vomit towards in the event of having to puke. There was a long silence as Jin and Nina both stared at me for a full minute. Eventually, I cracked under their intense gazes – I never was good at this sort of thing, you know. Yes, I know I prattle on a bit, but I'm getting to the point. "Sandro… Andrea… Peseta." Jin finally spoke up. I was about to ask him how the hell he knew my middle name but he continued speaking. "Italian-British dual national, born on 26 September 1964, died on 25 October 1989 at the young age of 25. Former keyboardist for the ill-fated progressive rock group _Enlightenment_, eminent eccentric… and old friend of my bodyguard here." He indicated Nina briefly before looking up from his document – he looked at me with eyes which were both steely and sympathetic simultaneously, his voice a low, flat monotone. Feeling impatient, I opened my mouth to speak up but this time I was cut off by Nina.

"I know what you're going to say, Sandro – why you were brought here." I looked stunned as I felt my face tighten in impatience. "Jin and I have been talking, and we've decided to help you track down your old friends, in return for you doing some errands for us." As Nina spoke, Jin slid a VERY futuristic-looking pistol across the table. Looking at them hesitantly, I reached out and picked it up, examining it carefully.

_This doesn't look like the Browning High Power I used back in 1989 – looks more like an upgraded Beretta 92 to me…_ I thought as I looked at the handgun intently. _Oh, yes – Beretta 90-Two… seriously, you couldn't have come up with something more unique, you lazy bastards?_ I cursed mentally as I holstered my new weapon, securing it fairly tightly.

"Now… be gone." Jin spoke. I simply stared at him for a moment before narrowing my eyes slightly, before shifting my stare to an unflinching Nina. Without another word, I simply left as I headed for the elevator.

_Fucking idiot, Sandro! You should have asked him how he knew so much about you!_ My mind screamed as I cursed in Italian, the elevator descending back to ground level.

'"What's the matter? Got shafted by Jin and the Fatal Hottie?" A male voice spoke up. Turning to face its owner, I could see a man with red-orange hair, clothed entirely in blue and white. He had a slightly cocky smirk on his face, which suited his overall persona.

"That, my friend, is the biggest understatement of the century. She didn't even look at my clothes – I look like a bouncer from the Gauda Prime nightclub!" I chuckled as I looked at him before introducing myself. "My name's Sandro." I held out my hand, which he took and shook, the smirk never leaving his face.

"I'm Hwoarang. Nice to meet you. Hey, aren't you that musician who used to play at the King of Iron Fist Tournaments?" The man enquired with a sense of morbid curiosity. I nodded wordlessly. "Why don't we hang out – you know – jam? Even if you don't get to see the Fatal Hottie, it'll certainly liven things up around here. Jin's a whiny emo, you know that?" Hwoarang continued. "He needs something that'll make him perk up."

"As if having a woman who looks half her actual age as his bodyguard isn't enough to make him 'perk up' – he should have gone for her sister, who's known for throwing her flange around." I retorted as I could sense that Hwoarang and I were going to get on just famously. "Fuck it, why not? Let's do a little… live rehearsal tonight – to scare the shit out of them. We'll need a drummer, though. You know anybody?" My answer came in the form of an enigmatic smile.

"Don't worry – I know just the man." The lift doors opened as Hwoarang and I left the building to pursue our joint venture together.


	6. Chapter 6

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 6**

_**Mishima Zaibatsu, Tokyo, Japan – 24 October 1989**_

Anna Williams sat in Kazuya's office, the Lightning Scarlet waiting patiently with a slight sense of nervous anxiety. She could feel the tension rise with every passing second, a combination of guilt and relief soaring through her mind – an emotional oxymoron. _What have I done?_ The beautiful-but-deadly brunette thought to herself as she awaited the return of her employer. _I've deliberately put Nina's life in danger… I know she and I don't get on well, but she doesn't deserve this – nobody deserves this._ She continued to mentally speculate as the regret began to threaten to devour her like a hungry lion approaching a frightened hyena. Soon enough, the double doors to the office slid open, and a purple shadow strode in with a calm, almost tranquil look on his face – Kazuya Mishima. Anna looked up to see Kazuya's imposing form as the double doors slammed close with a resounding thud. The silence was deafening and accusing. For a moment, the younger Williams sister feared that her employer would unleash his inner rage on her, for allowing her elder sister to be used in such a controversial and even illegal manner. To her relief, however, Kazuya finally spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle, complete with the signature Mishima one-syllable-at-a-time-because-I-think-you're-all-twats low monotone.

"Your sister has been captured and arrested. Looks like your plan worked, Anna." His voice was laced with a combination of impression and disappointment, as if he was unsure of how to take the recent turn of events. "She will make an excellent subject for the Cold Sleep project. Imagine a woman of such youth, beauty and virility – not to mention her elegant agility and her incomparable endurance – living to tell the tale of being literally frozen in time." Anna felt the jealousy – and regret – sting her even harder like a vindictive wasp. Sitting in his plush chair, Kazuya turned around to witness the grand view of the City of Tokyo before him, the Moon shining brightly in the Sky. He could see a divine entity looking at him with a combination of sadness and compassion, something he had not felt for a long time. The entity looked back at him with eyes of sympathy as its white light illuminated the darkness of the city. Unable to take the silence any longer, Anna finally spoke up, the Lightning Scarlet deciding to speak her mind for the first time since the beginning of the 2nd King of Iron Fist Tournament.

"Let me see her." She declared. Kazuya looked at her with an expression that made her heart race at the speed of light, but she did her best to counter it with a look of her own. "I want to see my sister… to show her who is the true winner in our lifelong war of wills." She added. Kazuya narrowed his eyes slightly as he mulled it over in his head. Anna could see the gears in the younger Mishima's head turn as he thought about it, his eyes widening slightly and his lips curling into a very slight, almost imperceptible, smile.

"OK, Anna." He finally decided. "She's in the subterranean complex beneath this building. You know where it is." Anna bowed before Kazuya, thanking him before leaving his office as she headed for a hidden elevator, which would take her to a laboratory deep below the surface. She could feel the shivers running up her delicate spine as she descended into what felt like the 10th Circle of Hell.

_**Unknown Location – 24 October 1989**_

Eventually, the elevator doors pinged open, the subbasement greeting the Lightning Scarlet with a howling wind and a trail of ice and artificial snow. Anna walked through the darkened cells, her mind burned with one single intention best known to herself. Walking through the darkened labyrinth and struggling to ignore the cold around her, she eventually reached a miniature office, the kind one would expect to see in a low-budget BBC drama instead of a Multimillion-Yen super-corporation. The door slid open, electricity crackling as it wavered in a state of indecisiveness before ultimately opening.

"Doctor Boskonovitch?" Anna called, half-hoping he would not be present. _I need to see him… I'm not going to let things with my sister end this way._ She cursed to herself in Gaelic before regaining her composure. Her prayer was half-answered as she heard a voice with a distinct Siberian accent reply to her call.

"Yes, Miss Williams… what can I do for you, my dear?" Boskonovitch replied as he cursed _sotto voce_ in Russian before turning to face the younger Williams sister.

"We need to talk about my sister." Anna replied calmly, her eyes never leaving Boskonovitch's old, tired face. "I want to go into stasis with her." Boskonovitch looked at Anna with mild, almost imperceptible, surprise.

"You… volunteer? Miss Williams, your sister is a sufficient test subject, I don't need another. Besides, why would you risk your life for such a dangerous and controversial experiment? Do you not know what might happen upon awakening? You might never even be awakened. You could be in there for the best part of a century." The Russian scientist explained with a combination of despair and sympathy, his eyes locking with the Irish brunette's form.

"I'm not letting her win this, Doctor." Anna replied, her voice uncharacteristically firm and authoritative. "If she goes into the freezer, then I go with her. I've got nobody else… and nothing else." There was a long, almost reverent, silence as the captive scientist sighed, knowing that his actions would haunt him for the rest of his natural life. He eventually nodded in acquiescence, sighing as he cursed to himself in Russian.

"Very well. It will be done." He finally spoke up. With those words, he turned to face his work once again as Anna left in silence.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 25 September 2012**_

I returned to the hotel with Hwoarang, the two of us forming an unlikely partnership as we headed to the bar, deciding to discuss our future as associates and the potential reforming of _Enlightenment_, something I was not happy about without Yakov and Hans by my side. It was relatively quiet since it was early in the evening, the Sun beginning to set over the Horizon. _It's my birthday tomorrow._ I thought to myself. _At least it would be if I were still alive – I'd have been 48._ I chuckled slightly in my signature 4th Doctor-esque manner, complete with slight grin. "So, how did you end up amongst Jin and his whiny bloodline?" I asked in my deep voice.

"I met Jin at the 3rd Tournament and he's been 1-upping me ever since." Hwoarang explained simply. I could tell that he was clearly not in the mood to discuss his rivalry with the pathological emo I reluctantly called my 'employer'. "I could ask you the same question: How did you end up befriending the Fatal Hottie?" He retorted as I looked at him with the same glance he had shot me a mere moment or two earlier.

"I was touring with _Enlightenment_ at the time of the 2nd Tournament, way back in 1989. It was the tail-end of our first world tour, and we were riding high on the success of our fourth studio – and only double concept – album, _Generations of Duality_. We were originally going to end the tour at the Hallenstadion in Zurich, Switzerland on my 25th birthday. It was a tradition for us to conclude tours on one of our birthdays." I began as Hwoarang eyed me up while downing his vodka calmly, raising a solitary eyebrow. I took it as a cue to continue. "A week later, our manager got a letter from the Mishima Zaibatsu, asking us to perform at the 2nd King of Iron Fist Tournament to entertain the fighters. We played four nights in a row, the final night being our last ever live show as a band… and the last time I would see my friends alive." I paused as I remembered that fateful night – the night the Purple Shamrock had asked me to accompany her on a mission gone awry. "I tried to save her like some kind of crazy Time Lord, but I got cornered… and I decided to go out with a bang instead of being turned into a Mishima bitch. Heihachi resurrected me as a hard-light hologram in time for Tournament No. 3 – 20 years later – and here I am." I sighed as I looked at a half-asleep Hwoarang beside me. _I pour my heart out and he falls asleep? Am I really that boring a companion?_ I sighed as I cursed in Italian. "Hwoarang?" I called his name to no avail. _Fuck it._ I thought. "HWOARANG!? Wake up! Are you sleeping, you humanoid Sonic the Hedgehog wannabe!?" Hwoarang jolted upright, his eyes clicking open as he looked at me.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. What was it you said about rescuing the Fatal Hottie?" He asked as I sighed in mild annoyance.

"I tried to save her and ended up getting pumped full of lead by some evil-looking Cybermen and Federation troopers." I simplified. "I'm not performing under the _Enlightenment_ name – not without Yakov and Hans. It just wouldn't be the same. We'll need to come up with a new name for our side project… and rehearsal begins at midnight, so get your guitar ready and call your drummer friend." I sighed as we headed to our rooms. I collapsed as I hit the bed, trying to get the closest thing I could to some sleep since dying and being resurrected.

In his own room, Hwoarang looked up at the ceiling contemplatively. _Great. A whiny bitch, a cold-blooded _femme fatale_ and a dead man. Sounds like the plot to a really shitty romantic comedy if you ask me. A dick to the left of me, a pussy to the right and here I am, an asshole stuck in the middle with them._ Reaching into his pocket, he took out a Zippo lighter with the South Korean flag painted on it along with a cigar, lighting up his nicotine tranquilliser… and taking a deep puff of his nicotine spliff before exhaling in an almost orgasmic fashion. "Oh, yes… that shit's awesome, baby." He smirked as he tried to get some sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 7 **

_**Osaka, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

Anna Williams was busy shopping in Osaka's famous district, the Lightning Scarlet smiling to herself as she sighed in relief. _Thank God I'm on holiday here. Kazuya would never have allowed me to indulge in this – he'd call it a "senseless monetary squander"_. Her mind wandered as she spent money gleefully, millions of Yen going towards her favourite articles of clothing – kimonos, furs, perfumes… and the occasional 'gift' for her sister. _I know I can't expect her to forgive me for what I did to her… but I have to try and help her somehow. Help her regain at least some of her memories except from her incurable hatred and desire to kill me. I don't want to fight her._ She continued mentally. As she finished paying for her fashion extravaganza, a thought bolted into the younger Williams sister's mind, her face lighting up as if a light bulb had appeared above her head and switched itself on. Drawing her smartphone, the Lightning Scarlet scrolled through her list of contacts before dialling an unknown number. RING! RING! RING! RING! The phone rang persistently for a full minute before being picked up.

"Hello?" The voice was masculine but not heavily accented, having a somewhat European inflection to it.

"Hello. I want you to get me the contact details of a certain Mr P." Anna spoke up, her voice calm and ambiguous as she looked at a gift in her hand, neatly wrapped up and boxed up like a religious artefact. _I hope he appreciates the gesture, unlike my sister. I don't know what he saw in her, apart from her statuesque figure. She must have had her finger wrapped around him. We're not so different, she and I. So different, yet so alike._ She ruminated as the voice on the hotline continued.

"I have the information you requested, Miss Williams." The man spoke up before giving Anna what she wanted. Thanking him, the Lightning Scarlet terminated the connection before writing a quick note on the gift in her hand, inserting it into a nearby mailbox. She sighed before cursing to herself softly in Gaelic, the memory of 20-something years ago returning to her, biting her like a zombie hungry for flesh.

_**Glasnevin Cemetery, Glasnevin, Dublin, Republic of Ireland – 1 December 2009**_

It had been a week since both Nina and Anna had awoken from the cryogenic stasis that had trapped their consciousness within a coffin of ice, glass and steel for the past two decades. While the Lightning Scarlet had readjusted fairly quickly to the 21st Century, the same could not be said for the Purple Shamrock. Her memory had been corrupted and displaced in both time and space, leaving her with a bout of amnesia from which it would take a long time to recover. As both women crossed the threshold of Glasnevin Cemetery, the atmosphere was mournful yet tranquil at the same time as snow permeated the Horizon, the Sun beginning to set in the Sky as the winter light accentuated the mood. _I know I shouldn't do this, but it is my fault that she ended up in this state. If I don't do this now, then when?_ Anna thought to herself as she walked with Nina towards a single lonely gravestone, marked with a framed picture of a man dressed in a militaristic-looking outfit, smiling benignly. The gravestone read:

**'IN LOVING MEMORY OF RICHARD WILLIAMS – HUSBAND, FATHER, IRISH HERO; 5/5/1940 – 11/11/1985.'**

Anna approached the gravestone and looked at the framed picture for a moment before paying her tributes to her father – she could feel her face tighten up slightly with restrained anger as she could feel the hate for her sister build within her… but she knew that it was not the time to unleash it. She was more than willing to let go of their tumultuous history if only her sibling could regain her memory. As Anna stepped back, Nina walked forwards to pay her respects to the man who had made her the woman she was… but then, something unprecedented happened. She started to suffer vivid, almost violent, flashbacks. Memories of 20 years earlier… when she had encountered Anna at the very same cemetery before the life-changing mission.

_"Nina, please… I don't want to fight. Not here."_ Anna's calm, almost caring, voice emanated from within the repressed memories. Nina clutched her head and fell to the floor in pain, crying out in agony. Instinctively, Anna ran to her sister to help her, only to be met with a hard and sharp SLAP! The stinging strike knocked the younger Williams sister off her feet as her elder sibling stood before her, cursing at her in Gaelic before storming away, leaving the graveyard. Anna put her hand to her cheek – it burned coldly, like comet ice. She let out a slight, almost imperceptible, smile. _Ow… that's going to leave a mark._ Her mind vocalised as she got to her feet, brushing herself before leaving the graveyard as the fireflies began to dance amidst the darkening Sky.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Basement, Tokyo, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

It was past midnight as I scanned my surroundings, a small room in the basement of the Mishima Zaibatsu HQ serving as an improvised rehearsal room. _So this is how I'm spending my birthday… for the next 2 hours._ I thought as I looked at the hastily assembled podium, from left to right: A Roland TD11KV electronic drum kit, a gold-plated Gibson Les Paul electric guitar, and a keyboard stand/rack housing two synthesisers – my beloved black Yamaha PSR-195 on the upper stand, while my dear silver Korg PA50 SD stood comfortably on the lower level. On the left of where I would be sitting was an Alesis SR-16 drum machine with footswitches. Each of us got an AKG C5 handheld condenser microphone. ALL of this equipment ran down a lengthy trail of wires at the rear, connected to a silver box – my Zoom R24 digital multitrack recorder, replete with patch cables. _I hope Hwoarang's drummer friend is at least reasonably competent – I don't think I have enough money left in my bank account for anything else._ I speculated as Hwoarang, the fabled Blood Talon, arrived with a man with dreadlocks. "You took your time. What have you been doing, studying videos of Jin while you're alone in your room?" I asked in a slightly sardonic manner reminiscent of the 7th Doctor.

"Maybe. He's so emo, not even the Sistine Chapel is enough to contain his sorrows." The Korean hothead replied, rather courteously, too. He introduced me to the dark-skinned Rastafarian (at least, that's what he looks like to me). "Eddy Gordo – Capoeira Master and fellow until-recently delinquent… and gifted percussionist." I shook Eddy's hand as he looked at me calmly before getting to his position. Hwoarang picked up his guitar, eyeing it up calmly as he struck a few notes and chords, the sound emanating from a large amplifier beside him with a rock-sounding WOW! He looked at me for a moment. "You haven't been trying to play this, have you?" He asked. I shook my head in denial and defence.

"I can't even play a stand-up double bass, let alone a guitar – I have no fingernails." I justified. "Look, let's just play – and if we wake up the 'Fatal Hottie' as you call her, along with my temporary 'employer', then it's an extra added bonus." Concluding the argument, I activated the drum machine and counted in a multitude of languages. "_Uno_, two, _trois_, _vier_, go!" A LOUD keyboard chord emanated from my synthesiser's speakers as Hwoarang kicked in with his guitar following a lengthy intro, while Eddy ripped and tore on the drums. After about five minutes of performing, the walls began to shake and vibrate as our 'performance' began to go through the edifice's natural boundaries in addition to the building's private radio station.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu CEO Office/Penthouse Suite – 26 September 2012**_

_Why? Why? WHY!?_ Jin's mind screamed as he tried to cover up the resounding noise with a pillow to no avail. _What was my grandfather even thinking resurrecting him?_ Grunting in frustration, he reached for an emergency drawer and produced some earplugs, slitting them into his ears with the desperation of a hungry refugee. He sighed in relief as he felt the silence overwhelm him, his body drifting off along with his mind into the river of dreams. Nina, on the other hand, simply sighed in mild frustration, her eyes red and bloodshot from lack of rest as she descended into the basement where we were rehearsing.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Tower, Tokyo, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

Nina exited the penthouse elevator to reach the lobby, only to find several Tekken Force troops dancing in time with our improvised gig. _Oh, for God's sake, Sandro… I know it's your birthday and you're itching to do something, but can you at least wait until the morning? We living people have to sleep, you know!_ Her mind screamed as she tried to approach a confuzzled-looking officer, apparently the only one not affected by the Band with Rocks In-like music. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked, having to raise her voice to an almost deafening level to supersede the decibel-record-shattering music. Her answer came in the form of Hwoarang yelling random phrases in Korean through the building's radio. _Actually… no… let's go and see just how stupid they can make themselves look._ She smirked with mild amusement as she headed into the basement area, taking the sane officer with her.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Basement, Tokyo, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

As the doors to the improvised rehearsal room opened, Nina and the officer strode into the makeshift venue to witness me on my synthesisers, looking heavily focused and intense, while Hwoarang was having the time of his life as he played a series of heavy metal guitar riffs in countermelody to my electronic progressive rock chord progression. Eddy was drumming like mad, constantly switching between various time signatures and beats and catching us off our feet. As our cacophony drew to a thankful close, Hwoarang slid across the floor while playing a lengthy guitar solo before kicking his amplifier to the floor, causing a LOT of feedback. As the final notes faded away into silence, he got down on his knees and clutched his guitar like a man possessed, the Blood Talon finally letting out a final yell of triumph, his eyes closed tightly. As he slowly opened his eyes and reality snuck back in, he could see Nina and the officer both staring at him like a disappointed mother and father.

_Oh, shit!_ Hwoarang thought. _I'd better make up a quick story. I don't want to disappoint the Fatal Hottie and the pathological whiny emo bitch I call my rival._ He turned to face me, a calm stare crossing my face as I kept quiet while glancing at my 'audience'. _Sandro's got balls of fucking titanium to stare down Nina bloody Williams, of people… but then, he does have the advantage of being dead. What the fuck is Eddy doing, slipping out unnoticed? Two-faced chicken bastard!_ His mind screamed as he spotted the Capoeira master slip away. He smirked nervously. "Hi." He said simply.

"So you're the source of the noise – I should have known… a dandy and a clown." Nina finally spoke up as Hwoarang and I looked at each other, both of us appearing insulted. "It's 1 AM. Go to sleep. Both of you."

"Shit, will you come with me? I'm afraid of the dark." Hwoarang replied in a sarcastic tone, half-expecting the Irish blonde to pick up on his flirtatious lewdness.

"You're a big boy – you've got a man who knows no fear to help you." She indicated me, prompting me to smile a bit. "He knows no fear; he knows no danger…" I beamed proudly. "…he knows nothing." She finished in a condescending tone of voice as I looked insulted once again, beginning to regret my 'friendship' with her. Not even the most wicked and corrupt motherfuckers at school had been so callous with me, whether staff or pupil. I felt hurt by her 'joke' as I decided not to lash out at her.

"Let's get the fuck out of here… ungrateful wretch." I spoke as Hwoarang and I left the basement, going back to the hotel, where I switched myself off for the night, my projection unit falling to the floor with a dull clunk, the Moon shining in the Sky as an angelic deity looked at the spot where I once stood, smiling sadly.


	8. Chapter 8

**The White Rainbow**

**A Tekken fan fiction**

**Chapter 8 **

_**Mishima Zaibatsu Hotel, Tokyo, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

CRACK! FZZZ! BSSHH! I woke up once again into my state of digital limbo as the Sun shone in the Sky, the Horizon a brightly-lit expanse of blue, with a few clouds in sight. Grunting slightly, I looked up to see my Italian Renaissance Ninja costume laying on a chair in front of me, with a nicely wrapped gift. _Wow. Somebody's remembered that even dead people have feelings._ I smiled as I grasped the gift, slowly removing the wrapping as if it were the Turin Shroud, revealing a long polyester scarf patterned after the Italian flag, a multi-coloured J-handle umbrella in a rainbow-like pattern with a sling – large enough to accommodate two people – and a white Panama hat made of fine straw with a red hatband… and a little wooden box. This piqued my curiosity as I slowly picked it up and examined it. _Doesn't look too big. It can't contain much, if anything._ I shook the box carefully, hoping to determine its contents. Nothing. _Fuck it. Might as well open it and find out._ I smirked as I opened the tiny container, revealing a pair of gold-plated spoons. _Somebody knows me too well._ I thought as I looked at the included birthday card for an address or a telephone number. Instead, I could only find a simple 'Happy Birthday' wish, signed with an 'A.W.' _I know who sent me this._ My mind clicked as I slipped on my new garments on top of my Italian Renaissance Ninja outfit, resembling an amalgamation of the 4th and 7th Doctors as I examined myself in a nearby mirror. _You look like 4 and 7 but you act more like 5 and 6._ My mind speculated. Slinging the umbrella on my back, I holstered the spoon case on my belt and strode out of the hotel room, smiling brightly on my special day. Reaching the lobby of the hotel, I could see Hwoarang and Eddy already awake and ready to burst, both wishing me a happy birthday as I thanked them, tipping my new hat to both of them in gratitude.

"Nice getup." Hwoarang commented in his usual I-speak-my-mind-and-I-don't-give-a-shit-if-I-offend-anyone-around-me manner. "Did the Fatal Hottie give you that stuff?" He raised an eyebrow out of jealously.

"No, actually… her sister did." I replied with a smirk. Hwoarang's eyes widened slightly as surprise temporarily deprived him of the power of speech, while Eddy let out a small chuckle.

"Seriously!? You are one lucky bastard, Sandro!" The Blood Talon finally spoke up as he examined my completely alien attire – not even the most eccentric Japanese or Italian people would dress the way I do. "Or should I call you… Doctor?" He joked.

"You going to write back to her?" Eddy spoke up, his voice low and velvety with a hint of a Latin American accent. "Nina won't be pleased that you've been getting birthday presents from Anna."

"I don't give a fuck what she thinks, Eddy… after the way she insulted us and humiliated me last night, I'm seriously starting to reconsider my so-called 'friendship' with her." I replied in a slightly acerbic manner before regaining my composure. "Anyway, let's go for a day trip to Kyoto and then head for Osaka for a pub crawl and back here in time for a gig." I smiled. I had known Hwoarang and Eddy for less time than Yakov and Hans (Last I heard, they both retired from music after releasing our fifth and final, albeit posthumous, album in 1991 – _Survival_ – consisting mainly of previously unreleased tracks and dedicated to me, which was touching, followed by _Enlightenment_'s official dissolution in 1992), but I got on better with them than I did with my former bandmates (OK, Hans wasn't too bad, but Yakov just HAD to complain about everything – he was a more perfect perfectionist than I ever was! It's a wonder we actually released any records at all). The three of us merrily headed for the nearest train station as we began an epic celebration.

_**Mishima Zaibatsu CEO Office/Penthouse Suite, Tokyo, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

A slightly rough-looking Jin sat behind his desk, a look of mild displeasure crossing his face as he looked at his wristwatch. _Where the hell is he? He's supposed to be here by now!_ His mind screamed. _I swear to God, if he pulls off another stunt like that in the middle of the night, then I might just consider switching off his projection unit permanently._ He turned to face Nina, who stood tall and proud in her signature purple catsuit. "Miss Williams, has their equipment been disconnected?" He asked with mild trepidation in his voice. _Anything but that. I'd rather face my great-grandfather again than suffer another 'gig' of theirs._

"Yes, sir… every piece of their gear has been switched off and unplugged." Nina replied coolly, rubbing her own eyes slightly.

"Good." Jin said simply. "He's late. Call him." He added with a slight hint of frustration. Nina did as she was told, dialling my telephone number (don't ask how she got it). RING! RING! The ringing persisted for a full minute before the Irish blonde sighed, hanging up. "He's not picking it up." She sighed, looking out of the window, feeling just a slight hint of guilt for her unprecedented insult towards me from the previous night. "This is going to go in his report." She thought out loud.

"Report? He doesn't answer to anyone, nor does he have a name. He's a product, an electronic ghost." Jin replied in an almost callous tone of voice. "If he's not back here by tomorrow, then he's on probation."

"Isn't he already?" Nina countered with a slightly raised eyebrow. Jin turned to meet her gaze, trying to ignore her statuesque model figure. He sighed as he remained silent, eventually throwing up his hands in defeat.

_**Bullet Train – 26 September 2012**_

A trio of cheerful figures – Hwoarang, Eddy and myself – were seated in one of Japan's finest near-light-speed locomotives, enjoying our time in the 1st-Class section. The Sun was shining brightly in the early fall/autumn Sky as the leaves on the trees were already beginning to turn various shades of yellow. "So, what are we going to do when we get to Kyoto?" Hwoarang spoke up as I looked at him with a confident smirk.

"I thought we'd check out some of the landmarks to begin with and then see if Chunky Lover is there, and maybe pay him a visit." I explained optimistically, making a subtle reference to Ganryu, who had disappeared for quite a while after his dismissal at the climax of the 2nd Tournament. _All for the love of a woman who doesn't feel the same way… how sad. Hang on, who the fuck am I to think that?_ I thought as I remembered who had done the same thing and ended up being turned into Swiss cheese and a digital phantasm for it. Eventually, the bullet train reached its intended destination as we disembarked, heading into the heart of Japan's cultural capital.

_**Kyoto, Japan – 26 September 2012**_

The three of us took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling simultaneously as we took in the fresh Asian air, relieved to be free from the metropolis, if only temporarily. "OK, then! Let's go!" Eddy declared as we headed into the streets of Kyoto, the three of us half-striding, half-swaggering through the Old Capital of the Land of the Rising Sun like we owned the place… and for that one day, we did. Our first port of stop was the old Kiyomizu-dera temple. As we entered the temple, I could faintly hear a voice speaking to me in a wild, almost frantic, tone of voice. Turning to face its owner – a muscular man of medium height – I raised a solitary eyebrow in a slightly challenging manner, even though I could just barely understand what he was saying (my Japanese still needs some more work). Hwoarang, being the devout buddy he was and is, stepped in for me.

"He's asking you to take off your hat and scarf." He translated for me. Narrowing my eyes slightly at the man, I semi-reluctantly complied, removing my straw hat to reveal my slightly receding hairline and the gold Ace of Spades on my forehead which was a permanent reminder of my status as a _persona non grata_. Cursing at the man in Italian, I proceeded to head into the temple with my buddies in tow. The atmosphere was peaceful yet sad as we had chosen a relatively quiet day for our excursion. While I admired the natural scenery, Hwoarang approached a statue of Buddha, the Blood Talon assuming a stance of uncharacteristic humility and modesty before the deity as he kneeled, speaking softly to himself in Korean as he took out a photograph of himself and his mentor, Baek Doo San. _I know you're out there somewhere… get well soon, Master._ He thought to himself as he pocketed the photograph before rising, erect once again. His moment of vulnerability had not gone unnoticed, however – I stood from a distance, watching him silently and giving him the privacy he craved. When I was sure he was finished, I stepped forward and looked at him sympathetically.

"Hey." I spoke softly, my face and voice compassionate. "Are you OK?" Hwoarang looked at me and nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, wiping away a tear from his eye.

"I'm fine, Sandro… thanks for asking." He replied, his voice slightly shaky as he showed me the photograph of himself and Baek. "My master, Baek, was injured a few years ago… by a creature called Ogre. The attack left him in a coma which lasted a whole year, and he's finding it hard to recover, to regain the strength he once had when he was at his physical zenith." Sensing that our visit to this temple was completed, we exited the shrine and met Eddy outside. My smartphone beeped silently as I replaced my Panama hat and super-long scarf. Looking at it, I could see a message from an unknown telephone number. It read:

**'Happy Birthday, Mr P. If you're wondering how I got your details, then I've got my sources. I know my sister's giving you the cold shoulder – literally – trust me, she can be a real bitch. I'm in Osaka this afternoon if you want to meet me in person and thank me for your gifts – meet me at the _Alto Tritone_ restaurant opposite the train station later today. _Ciao_ for now. A.W.'**

I smirked to myself as I made a mental note to meet the Lightning Scarlet to show my gratitude. _I never knew Anna Williams – of all people – could be so caring. Maybe if I had befriended her instead of Nina, then I might still be alive._ I speculated. My mental musing was interrupted by Eddy's inquisitive vocal intonation.

"Hey, man… you OK?" He asked in his distinctive Latin American accent, repeating the question in a dialect of Brazilian Portuguese. I looked up at him with a slight smile.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, thanks. Looks like my birthday benefactor wants to meet me." I beamed.

"You mean Anna?" Hwoarang interjected. "You know Nina's not going to be happy."

"Let me worry about Nina. I can handle the Snow Queen." I chuckled. "Let's go see Chunky Lover. I heard that he's been hiding around here since Michelle Chang turned him down." With those words, we headed towards a single lonely shrine in the distance.

_**Chang Shrine – 26 September 2012**_

A lone Ganryu sat on the floor, his eyes closed softly as he meditated peacefully, surrounded by a perfectly aligned octagon of scented candles. A picture of Michelle Chang hung on the wall, as if she were staring down at her unintentional admirer. Ganryu prayed to himself softly in Japanese, his prayer slowly becoming louder and louder before concluding with an epic cry of the Native American warrior's name. No sooner than he had uttered it, the atmosphere returned to its normal state, and Ganryu finished his daily prayer/meditation. Bowing before the large portrait of his Goddess, he slipped on his robe and exited his quarters. BANG! BANG! BANG! Three loud raps on the door to his home reverberated throughout the edifice, catching him off-guard, the vibrations causing the candles to go out and the picture of Michelle to fall to the floor. "No!" Ganryu cried out as he ran to salvage the portrait, rescuing it in the nick of time from the flames of the candles as they went out. "Don't worry… I saved you." He said to the painting, hanging it up again carefully thanks to a well-placed nail. "This time, you won't get away." He added before going to the door, opening it. Three figures stood outside the entrance – Eddy, Hwoarang and myself.

"Hello, Chunky Lover." I joked with a slight smile. Ganryu let out a shrill shriek before closing the door in our faces. I sighed and knocked again. "Ganryu, come on, open up. We've come quite a distance to see you." The door opened again slowly, with Ganryu peering from within.

"You… have come to see me?" He asked, his voice timid and surprised. "Oh, I am honoured to receive a visitor. Please, come inside." He opened the door and we stepped inside, closing it behind us. Removing my hat and scarf, I looked at him with a slightly sad smile.

"It's been a while, Ganryu – more than 20 years, actually." I spoke up. "How are you? You disappeared after the 2nd Tournament." Ganryu blushed in response as he hung his head in shame.

"I… had dishonoured the Mishima name… and myself. Michelle did not accept or appreciate my help, nor did she reciprocate my feelings for her." He felt very ashamed as he looked up at me for a moment.

"The lost Lenore… I hear that." Those were my words of sympathy and solace as the four of us walked into what he had called his residence for the past two decades – a fifth of a century in self-imposed exile.

**Author's Note: I know this is a slightly longer than normal chapter, but this is only half of what I originally intended to write. The following chapter comprises the other half.**


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